


Tattered Threads

by MournfulSeverity



Series: International Wizarding School Championship Fics [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Bigotry & Prejudice, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Grief/Mourning, Loss, Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:55:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22459096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MournfulSeverity/pseuds/MournfulSeverity
Summary: The world is ruled by the most ferocious creature of all — humans. Most are incapable of accepting those that are different from them — a stipulation that applies to Hagrid. But, the world of magical beasts is different. There he is accepted for every part of him, for the love he gives and is loved in return. Loved by one creature most of all — Aragog.
Series: International Wizarding School Championship Fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1616080
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	Tattered Threads

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Oneshot written for The International Wizarding School Championship. Required information can be found at the end of the story. 
> 
> Gigantic thank you, as always, to my beta, iNiGmA. She's an amazing writer, you should go see for yourself.
> 
> Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JK.

..

* * *

"If you want to know what a man's like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals." - Sirius Black

* * *

The sky was painted in shades of maroon and marmalade, the colors drawn across the sky by morning sun, seeping into one another as the light rose. Clouds kissed the tops of trees, fog settling between the branches. It was a beautiful morning to die.

The door of Hagrid's hut squealed, the wooden steps beneath his weight creaking as he lumbered down them. The path from his home and into the woods was well-worn, his footsteps having carved into the earth in the fifty years he had resided here.

He followed the winding trail, the way of it memorized inside his heart. The feeling when he woke this morning was heavy, the memories weighing inside him like jagged stones. He knew even as he departed his dreams, thrust into a pitiful state of wakefulness, that today was the day.

There was a desire to still his movements as if it could slow the happenings of the day — delay the inevitable — but even in the realm of magic, it was impossible. Alongside the sorrow inside him lay a sense of nostalgia. Memories of his return here; of the excitement, even if he'd been armed by only an umbrella.

_Dumbledore smiled up at him, glee shining beneath the blue while joy thrust itself from Hagrid. It had lain across his lips, turning the corners upward and into a toothy smile, had radiated from every part of him._

" _Headmaster Dumbledore, sir." He beamed, the words slurred and pushed together in an effort to free themselves from his tongue._

" _Ah, Hagrid, we are far too well acquainted for such formality. I'd much prefer Albus."_

Albus. _Hagrid thought the name over, rolling the sound of it out in his mind. He had known that to be his name, but to hear it from Dumbledore himself was most unusual. "'Fraid I can't, Headmaster."_

_The old man smiled in return, not fighting his insistence, of which Hagrid was thankful. After all the man had done for him…the use of his proper title was the least Hagrid to do. He had nothing else to offer._

_Dumbledore stepped back from the gate that guarded the Hogwarts' grounds, permitting Hagrid entrance. He followed, stepping on the vibrant green grass for the first time in nearly three years. He felt a part of him come back to himself, felt the surge of magic he had nearly forgotten thrived inside his veins — now dull from disuse._ Home, _he thought. He had finally come home._

Stepping beyond the line of trees and into the forest that was nearly more welcoming than the castle itself, Hagrid gave a sorrowful sigh. He was thankful — still — that Dumbledore had allowed his return; that the headmaster hadn't let him fade from existence. He had struggled enough in the three years between his expulsion and his hiring. Had he been forced to seek employment beyond the castle walls he knew he never would. It didn't exist. Not for someone like him.

It was why he found the canopy of the trees such a comfort. He was welcomed here for all that he was — the man _and_ the beast. The centaurs were respectful; kind, as long as they received the same in return. It was a generosity extended only to few.

People were afraid of this place. Of the things that lived within it — though few were dangerous. Hagrid, too, was feared by some. Misunderstood. But, here, he was free. As he walked, he listened to the galloping of hooves that darted through the trees, the calls of tittering birds, the peace that settled in between each sound.

_The two men walked, Dumbledore's tall figure dwarfed by Hagrid's own. They followed the hills and valleys that Hagrid had once so loved, stopping only when they reached another familiar sight. The small home of stone and wood that had sat on these grounds long before Hagrid had been welcomed here as a young wizard. It was nearly octagon in shape, the front part of it large — a word he rarely used when in comparison to himself, and that until recently hadn't described this house at all — while a smaller, shorter building attached to the back of it._

_Hagrid's vision blurred with gratefulness, though he said nothing. Dumbledore had heard it all before, had brushed each of his 'thank yous' off with a wave of a hand, the explanation that any decent wizard would do the same — an implication that didn't escape Hagrid's notice._

_In the nights before now, Hagrid had found himself burdened with questions. Where would he sleep? How would he travel? How could there_ possibly _be a life out there for him? Worst of all, what if the students didn't like him? He felt those worries shrink as he stared at the shriveled man that stood just beyond the door of the no-longer-little stone hut._

" _Surely, you remember Ogg? Our groundskeeper here at Hogwarts."_

" _O' course, Headmaster. Ogg." He greeted, reaching out a palm to shake the man's hand. Ogg gave a squeal of surprise, his arm jerking upwards with Hagrid's movements. "Nice ta see ya again." Hagrid smiled. With hesitation, the greeting was returned._

_At night, when the sky grew black beneath only the light of the moon, he snuck from the hut — from the bed specially made for him — and back into the forest. He'd almost been afraid to hope. Three years had passed, and this was the first and only chance he had been given._

_He'd stumbled from the hut and onto the open grounds, the excitement inside him present once more. Any noise that he had made had been covered by the old Ogg's snores — or maybe it simply didn't matter what Hagrid did in his spare time. He was no longer confined by curfew. No longer a student or even a young boy._

That was the first time he had taken this path; the one he trekked now and had walked many times between. He felt his past and present selves fall into one another as he walked deeper into the forest. To the well-worn clearing in the trees. One final time.

As he walked further amongst the trees, the presence of the beasts within became apparent.. Hoofprints, claw marks along the bark, spider webs stretching amongst limbs. There was the sound of fluttering birds, calls of creatures ricocheting off the trees of the forest. And a deep, unforgiving voice, welcoming him by name.

"Hagrid." It called towards him, worn by time and sickness. Husky from a fight that couldn't be fought any longer.

Hagrid approached, sitting down beside it. They were nearly equal in size, the spider and he. Both young tykes when their journey together had begun, and now old and tired men.

Hagrid rested the palm of his hand against the upper part of Aragog's leg, the black hair of the spider soft against his skin. While the journey here was well practiced, this was new. But, he knew it wouldn't be long now. The acromantula's legs were curled close against his body. Death was imminent, and Hagrid wanted to be beside him when it came.

Hagrid had eased many creatures from this world and into the next. He was no stranger to the distant stare, the permeating chill, the sudden silence of when a battle had been lost. His heart had broken with each of them, but perhaps that was the best part of being a half-giant; he had space inside his otherwise hollow heart to love them all. More than a mere human.

He had loved Aragog all the while, from the moment the egg had been passed into his hand; the face of the traveller covered, his identity still unknown.

_The cloaked man glanced over his shoulder, though he had backed the both of them down an alleyway of Hogsmeade. Any view of Hagrid beside the man was obscured by buildings — if only just. The stranger spoke in a whisper, his face buried beneath the shadow of his hood. Both hands were held inside the overly large cloak — one, Hagrid was sure, was gripping a wand 'just in case.' The other withdrew from the pocket, holding a round and milky white object out for Hagrid's view. "I'm looking for a safe home. Someone that'll care for the tyke. He was separated from his family, quite lucky that I came across him. Don't know what woulda happened to him if I hadn't."_

_Hagrid gazed at the egg in wonder. The edges of it were soft, not fully defined, and the small spider moved around inside. He looked quite ready to hatch, and Hagrid was eager. An acromantula; he'd thought seeing one one was little beyond a dream, and had far less expected to have one offered up to him._

" _I'll care for 'im." Hagrid said, his voice giddy with the thought of this new pet. "Can keep 'im up at the castle 'til he's big enough to care fer himself. Then he'll have free range of the forest." A thought occurred to him then and any hope he had of caring for the creature dwindled. "'Fraid I don't have any coin ta offer."_

_The man tsked, the idea of money seemingly unimportant. "Likes I said, he needs a safe place, that's all."_

Hagrid gave a scoff to himself, the hint of laughter at how foolish he had been, how unable he had been at thirteen to see the situation for what it was. A man trying to unload himself of a highly dangerous, _highly illegal,_ XXXXX beast. And Hagrid had so willingly fallen prey. Of which he had no regrets.

He looked out across the landscape, grief settling once more. It weighed heavily over this place, like a falling sky. Aragog's children had fled, many towards the dark that offered them a home. Mosag had passed some years prior, leaving Aragog quite alone and quite catatonic. With little left to call their own and You-Know-Who offering a curtain of safety to the unwanted, Aragog was quite likely the last Acromantula in the forest.

He'd been bitter —they both had. The very master the children had chosen was the one that had sentenced Aragog here in the first place. A full circle. When Hagrid had long-ago imagined the spider's reign of the forest, seclusion wasn't what he had pictured. But, few beasts could live harmoniously — especially when the appearance of another had been thrust upon them.

You-Know-Who's voice — even then — had been cruel. Hagrid still remembered it. Stern. Woven with a threat that he didn't have to say aloud for Hagrid to understand. How easy it would have been for Riddle's wand to aim towards Hagrid's heart. He may have been a half-giant, but he didn't care to find out the effects the Killing Curse would have on him.

Then there were the excuses that would have come after. That Hagrid was a savage beast who had attacked him. And they would have believed it. Every one of them. That was the worst part of all.

Instead, the spell had been blue; directed at the trunk Riddle had somehow known held Aragog. How long had Riddle been waiting to use that threat against him?

Hagrid had watched his acromantula scurry from the castle, his own steps thundering behind it when the threat of Riddle was gone, his voice calling out the spider's name in weepy desperation. But, it was much too late. Hagrid could only guess where Aragog had fled and it was the presence of professors and a most unforgiving Headmaster Dippet that stopped him.

Riddle had called them, triumphant with his capture of a most terrifying beast — the murderer of a young child, a halfling that many thought shouldn't have been allowed in the castle at all. Prejudice and an irritating amount of evidence had been on Riddle's side. Hagrid's bags had been packed that night, his expulsion banishing him from the grounds.

He'd watched in heartbreak as his most loved oak wand was snapped in two, the wood splintering and the broken magic sending a few final sparks into the sky. He was left to fend for himself with no way home. He traversed mountains, spending the occasional evening inside a cave, hidden from the muggle world. Gradually, he had made his way through the moors of Scotland and to the coast of England he had called home where he remained utterly alone. It was only when he turned of age that he heard the fluttering of an owl at his window, the offer of Dumbledore scrawled across the parchment it had carried.

Later came the arrival of a pink umbrella with a note that said only: "magic remains within" A gift that confused him greatly, until he lifted it from the wrappings and felt the pulse of life thrum against his hand. Now, he carried it with him always. It sat hidden beneath his heavy coat, rain or shine, not lifted even to protect himself from inclement weather.

The umbrella was one of the first additions to Hagrid's mental list of things he owed Dumbledore, amongst it his allowance at the school both as a student and as an employee, and the opportunity to return to Aragog's side, to be here for his final moments.

Aragog understood him more than anyone else in this world — save, perhaps, his Pop. His Pop who had died only months before Aragog came into Hagrid's life. The Acromantuala became a tether, a thread that clung to his past and anchored Hagrid in the present. Aragog made Hagrid's life bearable, an escape when his classmates could no longer stand the sight of him.

He had towered over the other students enough when he was eleven. Many of them had looked up at him in curiosity, not even bothering to hide their stares. And then Hagrid grew, and grew, _and grew_ and the whispers began. The ridiculing of the reinforced, resized furniture meant to support him (but that sometimes failed to), his clothes that grew much too small much too fast, the beard he'd began to grow when even the older students were capable of only stubble. They questioned what he was — and though Hagrid never said — some of them were right.

Hagrid was uncomfortable in his own skin without them, afraid of the monster that stared back at him from the mirror without them calling him one. Aragog came with whispered comforts that assured Hagrid of the good heart inside his chest. He spoke nothing of Hagrid's quiet sobs, the ones that lulled him to sleep nightly with Aragog kept safe inside his trunk.

Aragog had been there, and now he was leaving Hagrid behind.

He glanced at the giant spider, the rise and fall of his body as he took each ragged breath, his abdomen which had shrunk with each missing meal — the desire for food gone entirely.

"Hagrid…" It breathed, his name a great burden. "My old friend. It is time."

The world beyond him blurred with tears, and Hagrid gave a great sniff; a blubbering sob that shook leaves from the trees above. He clutched the acromantula a moment more, his heart lifting ever so slightly at the release of Aragog's soul, the departure into whatever lay beyond.

Hagrid looked up toward the sky, the maroon having faded to blue as his memories brought him into afternoon. The sun warm as it filtered through the trees, casting light across them.

It was a beautiful day to say goodbye.

**Author's Note:**

> Story Title/Link: Tattered Threads
> 
> School and Theme: Illvermorny, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, how the wizarding society treats those that are different from themselves.
> 
> Main Prompt: [Quote] "If you want to know what a man's like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals." - Sirius Black 
> 
> Additional Prompts: [Color] Maroon, [Emotion] Excitement
> 
> Year: 3
> 
> Wordcount: 2604


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